


Under Our Eyes

by ClaraxBarton



Series: Lies We Lead [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Body Worship, Established Relationship, Freckles, Kinktober, M/M, Sex Worker Clint, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 13:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21055484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: Clint had a rule about marks. He had verbalized it, had put it into writing, had made it very clear.No marks.Except then Steve found THAT mark.(From the same verse as Just Another One)





	Under Our Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarahcakes613](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/gifts).

> Kinktober 'Body Worship' request for SarahCakes - I sure hope I actually gifted it to the correct person on here!

* * *

* * *

Clint had freckles on his thighs.

They drove Steve insane, because  _ how _ ?

The smattering of freckles across his nose, cheeks, shoulders and incredibly strong arms Steve got. It was summer - it made sense for Clint to go around in short sleeves or sleeveless shirts.

But his  _ thighs _ ?

It wasn’t just a few around his knees, but an entire field of delicate brown pinpricks that danced up his strong legs all the way to his groin.

They taunted Steve just as much - maybe more - as Clint’s smirk and his mischievous eyes.

He lavished them with kisses, tasted them with his tongue and his teeth until Clint was writhing beneath him, panting and clutching at Steve’s hair as if Steve’s mouth was on his dick instead of just chasing after the memory of sunlight on Clint’s warm skin.

_ No marks _ , Clint had said, that first night, grin lopsided and eyes dark, confident and sensual as he laid out the terms of his ‘personal training’ for Steve. 

_ Mark me if you can _ , Steve had responded with a grin of his own. Clint had laughed, had looked Steve over with hunger in his eyes, and sure, this was Clint’s job and making Steve feel wanted was only good business sense. But Clint wasn’t that good of a liar, Steve discovered, and this might be Clint’s job but Clint was very good and very enthusiastic about his work.

It was too bad, though, that Steve couldn’t actually mark Clint the way he wanted to. Too bad that Steve couldn’t suck bruises into the constellation of freckles, couldn’t leave behind a nebula of his desire nestled there.

Clint was gorgeous, long and lean and strong, his body a map of his past: the scar on his left shoulder he refused to explain, the arrow tattoos on his wrists, the whorl of badly-healed skin on his right knee, the  _ Captain America _ tattoo on the inside of his left ankle.

Steve had stared at that, baffled and painfully, inexplicably aroused the first time he had caught sight of it. 

He hadn’t exactly  _ rushed _ through his first few times with Clint, but it hadn’t been until their fifth appointment that he had had the chance to spread Clint out on a huge hotel bed and spend the time and effort to properly lavish his body with attention and touch and praise.

And then he found the tattoo.

His eyes had locked with Clint’s, and Clint had blushed, had tried to stammer through an explanation- 

_ You were my hero as a kid- _

_ You were like, the hottest science experiment ever- _

_ You were queer, and that saved me when I was younger- _

_ It’s just a tattoo - it doesn’t have to mean anything- _

They were all just words, all just stammered excuses that weren’t exactly  _ lies _ , because even after just five times together, Steve knew Clint’s tells and the gorgeous man was telling him the truth, but he was also so clearly, desperately, scrambling for an excuse to explain away the mark, Steve’s  _ mark _ , on his body.

Steve had bent his head and kissed the shield logo, mouth open, tongue pressed to the warm, thin, sensitive skin, and under him Clint had shuddered.

_ Guess I marked you after all _ , he said, and Clint had damn near melted, had groaned and covered his face.

Steve made him come untouched that night, two fingers deep in Clint’s ass and his mouth nipping at those damn freckles, while Clint came apart under him and gasped his name and looked up at him with trust that burned right through Steve’s heart and to his gut.

-o-

  
  
  



End file.
